


I Just Want You to Know Who I Am

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue
Summary: Law student Dongmin, possibly over-dressed laundromat part-timer, meets a very handsome boy during the night shift. It's not a meet-cute, though. It's not cute at all.Featuring Jinwoo in the middle of an emotional crisis, Minhyuk and Sanha to the rescue, drama student Moon Bin, Moon Bin's boyfriend My Junie, law students failing at being emotionally supportive to each other, drama students being mean about Gangnam beauties, and Rudy the unfortunate dog.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Moon Bin, Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62
Collections: K-pop and K-drama AUs





	I Just Want You to Know Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> So much gratitude to Selenic76 for being a fantastic beta on this and helping me really whip it into shape and improve as a writer, and WaterSoter for being a problem-solver and the voice of Eunho.
> 
> Inspired by Eunwoo's recent photo shoot in a laundromat.

“Toolbox?” Manager Jung asked.

“Check,” Heeseok said, literally checking a box on the list on his clipboard.

“First aid kit?”

“Check,” Heeseok said.

Manager Jung had served in the Marines and ran his laundromat like his own little platoon. “Janitor cart?”

“Check,” Heeseok said.

“One over-dressed fashion model part timer?” 

Heeseok darted a look at Dongmin and smothered a grin. “Check!”

“I’m a law student,” Dongmin protested, for the thousandth time, but Manager Jung just looked him up and down, eyebrows raised.

Dongmin looked down at his outfit, straightened his t-shirt compulsively. Even though he was a part-timer, he wanted to do a good job and show Manager Jung that he was taking this job seriously and also show the customers that he was trustworthy and responsible. Customers wouldn’t want their laundry done at a place where the staff didn’t have nice clean clothes, right? 

“Also I’m not over-dressed,” Dongmin said.

“Not today,” Manager Jung admitted. He and Heeseok exchanged knowing looks.

Dongmin sighed.

On his first day he’d worn slacks and a button-down shirt and a tie and a casual jacket, and no one had taken him seriously as a laundromat employee, insisting they speak to Manager Jung or Heeseok when they had questions about detergents and stain removal techniques. Dongmin decided to dress down the next day, opting for jeans and a t-shirt, but then an old ahjusshi had tried to hit him with his walking stick and accused him of trying to steal the laundry. 

Finally Dongmin had settled on a quasi-uniform of a white t-shirt and comfortable pants because they were easy to work in, and working at a laundromat was very physical, hauling pounds upon pounds of laundry, but he’d throw a nice sweater or jacket into the mix so he didn’t look like a laundry thief. 

Dongmin straightened up. “I’m ready to take over, sir.”

Manager Jung nodded. “Excellent. Heeseok, shift change.”

Heeseok held the clipboard out to Dongmin. “Hold the fort, brother.”

Dongmin wondered if, once he’d worked there long enough, they’d start to salute him. “I’ll take care of everything, Manager-nim.”

Manager Jung clapped Dongmin on the shoulder. “You really do an excellent job, son. Have a good night. Don’t study too hard. Heeseok! On my six. Company dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Heeseok waved at Dongmin and followed Manager Jung out of the laundromat, leaving Dongmin in charge for the rest of the night.

Dongmin watched them go, then slumped against the customer service counter with a gusty sigh of relief. While he appreciated having a well-stocked toolbox that could probably be used to disassemble and reassemble an entire car and a first aid kit that could probably be used to perform minor surgeries, working at the laundromat wasn’t all that exciting. It was mundane and boring and awkward. But it kept Dongmin fed and housed, so that was what mattered.

One perk of working at the laundromat was that Dongmin could do his laundry there for free. He preferred to do it in the middle of the night, when there would be fewer customers, because having total strangers see his underwear seemed weird and invasive, even though before he’d landed this job he’d done his laundry at the laundromat in the campus dorms without thinking twice about it. The fact that the dorms weren’t co-ed probably helped, though. Dongmin had only been working at the laundromat for a week, and already he’d had too many encounters with ladies’ underthings, usually of the old ahjumma variety.

In the middle of the night, most of the other laundromat patrons were university students like Dongmin, typically male, keeping half an eye on the machines they were using while they studied and made flashcards and listened to music. Dongmin had brought some textbooks along himself, though his first priority was to keep the laundromat clean and organized, so he swept and cleaned the glass on the vending machines that dispensed detergent and fabric softener, and he made sure all the lint traps in the dryers were cleaned out.

When the laundromat was finally empty of customers, Dongmin took the chance to pop next door to the cafe for a cup of coffee and then do his own laundry. He sank down on the bench nearest to his machines but made sure he was facing the door in case more customers came in, and he reached for his torts textbook. He made it through an entire chapter and paused to switch his clothes over to the dryers, then reached for his notebook to start a chapter outline.

The door swung open, and Dongmin sprang to his feet with a smile and a bow. “Welcome, customer.”

The boy didn’t respond. He looked about Dongmin’s age, was wearing ripped black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket with a gray hood. His hair was bleached pale blond. He made a beeline for one of the machines, shrugged off his jacket.

His t-shirt was covered in blood.

“Sir!” Dongmin started toward him. “Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

The boy didn’t respond. He was shivering, and his eyes were blank. He started to peel his shirt off, but it was sticky with blood.

Dongmin reached out to stop him, hesitated. “Sir, no, customers aren’t supposed to -”

The boy wriggled and squirmed, and finally he pulled the shirt up over his head, smearing blood on his face and hair. Dongmin noticed his tattoos: some words across his ribs, and a lion in the shape of a crown on his chest. Oh hell. Was he some kind of gangster? Had he killed someone? Was he trying to get rid of the evidence? Only his tattoos didn’t really look like gang tattoos.

“Sir,” Dongmin said.

The boy flung his shirt into the nearest machine, which was actually a dryer. Then he kicked off his sneakers - the white trim on them was stained with blood, too, as were his socks - and he unzipped his jeans.

Dongmin finally grabbed the boy’s wrists. “Sir. Stop. You can’t - should I call 119? Do you need an ambulance or the police?”

The boy was still shaking, fine tremors from head to toe. Up close, he was shorter than Dongmin, pale, breathing fast and shallow. Like he was in shock.

“Sir?” Dongmin asked.

Finally the boy focused on Dongmin, lucidity creeping into his eyes. His hands were covered with blood.

“He’s dead,” the boy said, plaintive.

Alarm skittered down Dongmin’s spine. “Who?” he asked. If he had to call the police, he had to be able to give them as much accurate information as possible.

“I saw the car hit him. It didn’t even stop. I ran out into the street and I picked him up. I carried him all the way to the vet, but - but -” The boy sank to the ground, sobbing.

Oh. That sort of thing didn’t warrant police intervention. But - it must have been the boy’s own pet. Most people wouldn’t react this way to the death of a random animal, right? Dongmin crouched down beside the boy and carefully put an arm around his shoulders.

He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t grown up with a pet, and he’d never seen anyone he cared about die. He couldn’t imagine carrying a dead or dying animal all the way to a vet’s office. Had it been far? Was a vet’s office even open in the middle of the night? Dongmin supposed there were 24-hour vet offices, the animal equivalent of an ER.

No. He was getting distracted. His brain ran away from him whenever he was faced with a problem. His professors said it would make him a great lawyer. They also said it would make him a pretty lousy human being.

Dongmin ducked his head, tried to catch the boy’s eye. “Hey. Let me help you, all right? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The boy shuddered with the force of his sobs, but he managed to nod his head. Dongmin eased to his feet, headed for the small utility closet beside the management office. He filled a bucket with warm soapy water, found a clean washcloth and a towel in the lost and found donation pile, and returned to the boy’s side.

Dongmin knelt next to the boy once more. “Here, give me your hand.”

The boy didn’t respond, but he didn’t resist when Dongmin took one of the boy’s hands in his and carefully wiped it clean with the warm damp washcloth. Horror turned Dongmin’s stomach when he wrung it out in the bucket, the blood staining the water like vivid ink, but he forced himself to continue. He cleaned all the way up the boy’s arm, then his other arm and hand. He eased off the boy’s bloodstained socks and washed the boy’s feet, too, which felt weird and oddly intimate, but the boy was as pliable as a rag doll under Dongmin’s hands. His sobs had subsided, and he was huddled on the floor, tears slipping down his face.

Dongmin wrung the cloth out as best as he could, then offered it to the boy. “Here. You should clean your face and, um, your chest.”

The boy had a very nice chest.

Dongmin did his best not to stare, but he was a reader by nature, and there were words inked into the boy’s skin - and also impressive muscles sliding beneath skin as the boy reached for the washcloth, buried his face in it.

_ Don’t chase money make money chase you _ _  
_ _ Treat myself well to treat others well _ _  
_ _ Play with the process _ _  
_ _ Always be humble _

The boy looked up at Dongmin. “You speak English.” His voice was raw, his eyes bloodshot, but up close he was incredibly handsome.

Dongmin swallowed hard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to read it aloud. It just sort of happened.”

The boy sighed shakily. “It’s advice my mother used to give me. She gave me Rudy, too. I begged her and begged her for a puppy when I was little. And then one day she brought him home and he’s been my best friend ever since -” He sniffled, and his expression crumpled. 

He bowed his head as tears fell afresh, and Dongmin felt like such an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Dongmin said helplessly. 

The boy lifted his head, tried to speak, shook his head. He cleaned off his torso with shaking hands, and then he stared dazedly at the bright blood on the cloth. 

Dongmin pried it out of his grip carefully, rinsed it and wrung it out in the bucket. The water was getting cool. “Do you want me to help you with your hair?” 

The boy stared at him blankly. 

Dongmin set the washcloth aside. He beckoned, and the boy leaned in. Dongmin narrated softly as he worked so as not to startle the boy whose name he still didn’t know. He cupped his hands and scooped water over the boy’s head several times, then scrubbed gently. Because the boy’s hair was bleached pale blond, like a gangster or an idol, Dongmin expected his hair to be coarse or brittle, but it was fine and soft. Dongmin rinsed the boy’s hair, then used the towel to scrub it dry as best as he could.

“All done.” 

The boy straightened up. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and he looked lost and heartbroken and very young. 

Dongmin rose, picked up the bucket. “Let me take care of this, and I’ll bring you some clean clothes.”

The boy nodded and slumped against the dryer. 

Dongmin hurried and took the bucket, washcloth, and towel into the back. He dumped the water out of the bucket and rinsed it, set the washcloth and towel on the cleaning laundry pile - which he was responsible for on his shift, too - and then went to check his own laundry. It had finished drying, so he found a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and he brought them over to the boy.

“These are a bit big for you, but you can come change in the office.”

The boy blinked, then nodded. He hauled himself to his feet, exhaustion writ into every line of his body, and shuffled across the laundromat to the tiny staff office behind the customer service counter. Dongmin flipped on the light in the office and ushered the boy in, pulled the door closed, and waited.

A few moments later the boy stepped out, his jeans balled up into a tiny bloody pile.

“I’ll take care of these,” Dongmin said. The jeans he might be able to save, but the t-shirt and socks, all white, were beyond hope. He guided the boy over to the bench where he’d been studying.

“Sit here and rest, okay?”

The boy nodded and sank down onto the bench. Dongmin picked up his sweater and tucked it around the boy’s shoulders. He offered the boy his coffee and also some of the snacks he’d brought from home, which the boy accepted with a polite bow of his head. He surrendered his shoes and clothes to Dongmin, and then he sat sipping the coffee and staring at nothing.

Dongmin went and fished the boy’s shirt out of the dryer, scooped the jacket and socks off the floor, and went into the back. He used hydrogen peroxide on the bloodstained clothes, and then he tossed them into a washer to sterilize, and he scrubbed the boy’s shoes and wiped down his jacket with disinfecting wipes. He kept peering at the boy to make sure he was all right. The boy remained slumped over on the bench, shoulders small beneath Dongmin’s sweater.

Dongmin finished cleaning the shoes and jacket and went to bring them back to the boy and saw that he was asleep, chin to his chest.

It was easy to guide the boy down to the bench with his sweater as a pillow. Dongmin arranged the jacket over the boy as a blanket and draped another of his sweaters over the boy’s bare feet and legs to keep them warm, and then he went to fold his own laundry.

He was halfway through the large pile of whites when the buzz of a cellphone ringing on vibrate startled him.

Dongmin patted his pockets, but it wasn’t his phone. He frowned. Had a customer left their phone behind?

And then he realized. He dashed across the laundromat and eased the jacket off of the sleeping boy, rifled through the pockets till he found the boy’s cellphone.

Someone nicknamed  _ Pebble _ was calling.

Dongmin ducked into the back office and closed the door and answered the call.

“Hello?”

A face appeared on the screen, a boy perhaps a couple of years Dongmin’s junior. He was still wearing a school uniform.

“Hyung, what’s going on? I got a call from Sanha. His mom said she saw you dodging cars in the street.”

Was this the boy’s younger brother? He’d be devastated by the news about the family dog. He didn’t much look like the boy sleeping in the laundromat, but he was also handsome.

“Hyung? Why are you in the dark?”

“Oh, sorry!” Dongmin flipped on the office light.

The boy stared at him. “Who are you and what are you doing with my cousin’s phone?”

“Ah, my name is Lee Dongmin. I work at a laundromat in Dongdaemun. Listen, are you sitting down?”

“Why should I be sitting down?” But the boy sat down.

Another boy poked his head into the viewframe beside the first, wearing the same school uniform. “Wow, is that Jinwoo-hyung’s new boyfriend? He’s really handsome.”

Dongmin blushed. “No, listen, um, your cousin, Jinwoo? Did he have a dog named Rudy?”

The first boy said, “Did Jinwoo bring Rudy to the laundromat?”

The second boy said, “I told you, my mom said she thought she saw a dog get hit by a car and Jinwoo running in the street.”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “Jinwoo told me Rudy got hit by a car. Jinwoo took Rudy to a vet, but either Rudy was too injured or he didn’t get there fast enough. He carried Rudy himself. He’s here at the laundromat now. I think he was in shock when he came in? He was covered in blood. I’m washing his clothes right now, and I gave him some coffee and food, but he fell asleep. That’s why I answered his phone - so it wouldn’t wake him up.”

The first boy pressed his hand to his mouth, shocked. “No. Rudy. Jinwoo must be -” He cleared his throat. “Send me the address of the laundromat. Sanha, call Myungjun-hyung and tell him to meet us there. I’ll call Jinyoung and tell him what happened.”

Dongmin said, “I can’t unlock his phone. But if you tell me your number I can send the information from my own phone.”

The boy said, “Tell me your number, I’ll text you right now.”

Dongmin rattled it off, and he felt his phone buzz in his pocket a moment later.

“Thanks for looking out for him,” the boy said. “What’s your name again?”

“Lee Dongmin.”

“I’m Park Minhyuk, Jinwoo’s cousin. This is Yoon Sanha. He lives next door to Jinwoo.”

Sanha waved, though his expression was grim.

“We’ll be seeing you soon,” Minhyuk said. “Don’t let Jinwoo go anywhere.”

“Of course,” Dongmin said.

The call ended.

Dongmin immediately fished his own phone out of his pocket and texted Minhyuk the location of the laundromat, and then he put Jinwoo’s phone back into his jacket and ducked out of the office.

Jinwoo was still asleep on the bench. Dongmin draped the jacket back over him, and then he sat beside Jinwoo and waited.

Twenty minutes later, the door flew open, and three boys spilled into the laundromat. Dongmin recognized Minhyuk and Sanha, still in their uniforms. The other boy wore regular clothes. He was the shortest, with high round cheeks and a wide mouth. Was he Myungjun or Jinyoung?

Dongmin stood, beckoned them over.

They rushed to him, paused when they saw Jinwoo curled up on the bench.

“How upset was he?” Sanha asked.

The short boy swatted him on the arm and hissed, “Yah! Rudy died.”

Minhyuk sighed. “His mother’s only been gone for six months. Rudy had years and years ahead of him still.”

Dongmin’s throat closed. 

Minhyuk crouched down beside Jinwoo. “Hyung,” he said gently.

Jinwoo stirred.

“Hyung, come on. We’re here to take you home.” Minhyuk patted Jinwoo’s shoulder.

Jinwoo’s eyes fluttered open. “Minhyukie?” His voice was surprisingly deep, hoarse from sleep and crying. “What -?”

The short boy crouched down as well. “We heard about Rudy.”

Jinwoo’s eyes filled with tears, but he sniffled and nodded, pushed himself up. He scrubbed at his face, his shoulders tight.

“I called Jinyoung,” Minhyuk said. 

“What? No. He has his family to take care of,” Jinwoo began, but Minhyuk cut him off.

“You’re his younger brother.” Minhyuk nodded to Sanha and the other boy, who must have been Myungjun, and they both stepped in, helped Jinwoo to his feet. “You’re coming home with me tonight. I told my mom. We can sleep together, like old times.”

Jinwoo nodded.

“Wait,” the Minhyuk said. “You’re barefoot.”

Dongmin said, “Here, let me lend you a pair of socks.” He ran and grabbed a pair off of his own stack of whites, and then he knelt in front of Jinwoo. “I’ll help you.”

Jinwoo let Dongmin put the socks on him, let Dongmin help him into his shoes. Dongmin made sure to tie the laces tightly so Jinwoo wouldn’t trip, and then he straightened up.

“I’ll make sure your clothes are clean,” he said.

Jinwoo blinked and looked down at what he was wearing. Dongmin handed him the leather jacket.

“It’s cold out. Keep the sweater,” Dongmin said when Jinwoo went to hand it back.

“You’ll be cold,” Jinwoo protested.

Dongmin shook his head. “I have plenty of other clothes here to keep me warm. Go with your cousin.”

“It’s my turn to look out for you for once.” Minhyuk smiled sadly, then headed for the door. He held it open for the others, nodded at Dongmin, and the four of them vanished into the night.

Dongmin watched them go, a hollow ache in his chest. Poor Jinwoo. But he had family and friends caring for him. Dongmin had done what any decent person would do, and now - now he had to finish his shift. 

He folded his laundry, he studied, and when Jinwoo’s clothes were done, Dongmin folded them as well. The jeans had survived, but the shirt and socks were stained beyond repair. Dongmin folded the shirt and then set the jeans and socks on top of it. He found a nice piece of fabric in the lost and found and tied up the bundle, and he set it aside. Jinwoo or one of the others could come back for it at a later date.

* * *

For days after that chaotic meeting at the laundromat, Dongmin wondered about Jinwoo and fretted. Was he eating enough? Was he sleeping enough? Was he having terrible nightmares about Rudy dying in his arms? Was he staying warm? Was Minhyuk taking good care of him? Was Minhyuk’s mom taking good care of him?

Dongmin knew it was ridiculous. Jinwoo probably didn’t even remember him. He wanted to text Minhyuk a picture of the bundle of clothes and let him know they were clean. He didn’t really care about getting his own clothes back, because he had plenty and had been planning to declutter his closet anyway. Besides, chances were Minhyuk hadn’t saved his number.

(Dongmin had saved his, of course, under a very formal and polite Park Minhyuk, with a note: Jinwoo’s cousin.)

Dongmin wondered if he could find Jinwoo on SNS and see how he was doing that way, but he had no way of knowing what his SNS handle might be, and he didn’t know what Jinwoo’s last name was. He tried searching for Park Jinwoo on a portal site, since Park Minhyuk was his cousin, but as expected all it did was turn up the actor. 

Dongmin resolved to push the encounter out of his mind. In the week and a half following his midnight meeting with Jinwoo, the laundromat flooded twice, a customer accidentally put a red sock in with his whites and turned everything pink and screamed at Dongmin for ten minutes, and three of the dryers broke. Dongmin became very handy with a mop and a wrench, and his diplomatic and chemistry skills were put to the test when he showed the customer how to rescue his load of whites for a reduced fee on using the machines again. 

But in between episodes of insanity, his mind drifted back to Jinwoo. What kind of dog had Rudy been? Was he big and lumbering or tiny and cuddly? Was he fiercely loyal and protective or was he friendly with everyone? Was he smart and well-trained and full of tricks or was he lazy and insolent but still sweet and affectionate? Did he curl up on Jinwoo’s lap while he watched TV and played video games, or did he go running with Jinwoo in the mornings?

Obviously Dongmin had no social life if he was obsessed with a boy he’d met once. Since starting university he hadn’t really made any new friends, and he had fast learned that the people he’d thought were his friends in high school were less friendly and loyal now that he was at Seongdae and unable to help them with their own studies. 

After another night of lying awake and staring at the ceiling and wondering if Jinwoo was all right - and then staring at his phone and researching the criminal penalties for the hit-and-run of a dog, if there were any - Dongmin resolved to make a new friend. 

So in his beginning drama class the next day, he took the initiative to pair up with another student for an assignment they had coming up, to analyze and perform a scene together.

Moon Bin was tall and handsome and also quite dedicated, took lots of notes like Dongmin did, and he seemed like he would pull his weight in a shared assignment. 

“How about I buy you lunch and we brainstorm?” Dongmin said. “Unless you have another class right now.”

Bin lit up. “I never say no to free food. I’ll buy next time.”

They gathered up their book bags and headed for the student cafeteria. Bin was a drama major and minoring in music. He wanted to perform in musicals, and he also wanted to teach acting and singing. 

“They’re healthy ways to express yourself, and kids need more of that,” Bin said. “I know a lot of times when I was stressed out, music helped me cope. What about you?”

They ordered food and grabbed some trays, then drifted through the line with the other students. 

“I’m a law student. I plan on being a prosecutor, and that will mean performing in front of a judge and a jury and memorizing arguments and speeches, so drama seemed like a natural choice for a minor,” Dongmin said. 

He thanked the lunch lady, and then the two of them wove through the tables to an unoccupied one in the corner. Dongmin wasn’t oblivious to his own looks, but he ignored it when people stared and whispered. 

“Law? Wow. You must be so smart.”

Dongmin said, “I study hard. So, did you have a scene in mind?”

“Yes,” Bin said, and dug his phone out of his pocket. “Everyone else is going to be picking scenes from Shakespeare or other famous plays or award-winning movies.”

Dongmin had been planning on a scene from Troilus and Cressida, one of Shakespeare’s lesser-known plays, but he nodded for Bin to continue. 

“Let’s pick a scene from a drama. It doesn’t even have to be a particularly popular drama. But even smaller dramas have really good scenes.”

Dongmin did really love dramas. “Okay. Were you thinking of a particular drama, or…?”

“I really like webtoons, and this drama was based on a webtoon.” Bin held out his phone. “These two characters are enemies in one storyline but best friends in another. In both storylines they’re in love with the same girl, but they don’t actually fight each other over her. Watch this.”

Bin pressed play on the short video clip. He ate while Dongmin watched. It was a scene from a historical drama. Teen dramas usually weren’t also historical dramas, so he was intrigued. He could probably dig up a couple of hanboks for them to wear. They were about the same height. Had Bin worn a hanbok for his Coming of Age? 

“Can you give me some more context?” Dongmin asked. “Will we need more context for our audience to be able to connect to the scene?”

Bin considered. “Maybe.”

“I like the concept, though. A scene from a drama instead of a more obvious source. Are there other scenes you had in mind?” Dongmin dug into his meal while Bin poked around on his phone some more.

“We’d need a drama that has a really epic bromance,” Bin said.

“What about a romance?” Dongmin asked.

Bin lifted his head. “What?”

“Professor Kang said we had to put our own interpretation on the scene. What if it’s the big romantic scene?” Dongmin said. And then he really  _ looked _ at Bin, who was handsome and broad-shouldered and athletic. “I mean - if it’s not too uncomfortable for you. I’m not just suggesting it because I’m gay. But. Um.” He bit his lip.

Bin looked at him. “No, I actually think that’s a really cool idea.” Then he smiled a little and said, “I don’t know if my boyfriend will like it very much, though, me playing a romantic role with an actor as good-looking as you.”

“You’re gay too. Okay.” Dongmin took a deep breath. “What are the chances?”

“It  _ is _ the theater department,” Bin said.

Dongmin couldn’t help but laugh. “True.”

Bin held his phone out. “There’s this other drama that was based on a webtoon I really liked. It’s about a girl who was bullied because she was ‘ugly’, and she got plastic surgery before she went to college, but it didn’t really make her life better. She falls in love with a naturally handsome boy, but she’s still trapped by the stigmas about looks.” He showed Dongmin the scene.

“Umbrella in the rain. Classic drama moment,” Dongmin said. He added, “You should be the handsome boy. I’ll be the girl.”

“But you’re more handsome than me,” Bin said.

Dongmin glanced at him. “I’ve heard what people say about my face, that it’s not natural.”

Bin winced. Then he said, “Well, you’re taller than me. You should be the boy.”

“If we’re going to mess with genders and stereotypes with this scene, you should be the boy,” Dongmin pointed out. “But I like it. The dialogue could apply to any relationship that goes against social expectations. Can you send me the link? I’ll transcribe the dialogue and send you a copy.”

Bin nodded. “Sounds good. What’s your schedule like? So we can start arranging for rehearsal times.”

“I’ll send you a screenshot,” Dongmin said. He smiled at Bin. “I’m glad we’re working together.”

“Me too,” Bin said. “Thanks for buying lunch, by the way. Next time, it’s on me.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, and then they set about finishing their meals and getting to know each other a little better. Bin was the firstborn son, like Dongmin, and he had a sister a year younger than him. Bin was born the year after Dongmin, but they’d graduated the same year because Bin’s birthday was just early enough in the year, so they were technically the same age. They’d both learned to play piano growing up, and they both enjoyed watching dramas. Bin liked reading webtoons where Dongmin preferred books, and he also liked dancing - he was in a street dance crew for fun - but overall it looked like they’d get along well, not just as classmates but also as friends.

There.

Dongmin had done it. Made a new friend.

* * *

Even though the scene was short, the project was relatively ambitious. There were a lot of fine details to work out, like where to start the scene, where to end it, how they would convey things like how cold and wet and late it was with nothing but a pair of umbrellas. Could they make a background track of ambient noise? Was there something similar already available on the internet they could use for free? Since Bin was a music minor, maybe he knew some students in the music production and sound engineering department who could help out. Or maybe some theater techs? How would they control that kind of effect during their scene? Was that kind of effect even allowed under the parameters of the assignment? (Dongmin scoured the written instructions like a budding lawyer instead of an actor and decided that since such effects were not specifically prohibited, they were allowed.)

(If focusing on the fine details of what amounted to a scene that was less than ten minutes long seemed a little obsessive, at least Dongmin wasn’t obsessing over Jinwoo again.)

The project also gave Dongmin an excuse to binge the entire drama so he had context for the scene, so he knew what emotional weight to bring to his lines, how he might want to change the tone of his delivery, where he would pause in the dialogue. He would have to coordinate things like physical contact and eye contact with Bin, which they would have to get a feel for during actual rehearsals, but he felt like he was off to a solid start. 

The drama made him think long and hard about his place in the world, the privilege and advantage he had because he was male and because he was naturally good-looking and had financially stable, supportive parents. 

And then he thought of Jinwoo, who was naturally very handsome but had no mother and no dog (and maybe no father? No one had mentioned his father that night), though he at least had a supportive cousin and friends (Minhyuk, Sanha, Myungjun, possibly an older brother named Jinyoung?). Was Jinwoo doing all right?

Dongmin fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his contact list and found Park Minhyuk’s name. What harm could it do, to send a text message just asking if Jinwoo was all right? Sure, it had been nearly a month since Jinwoo had come into the laundromat, but being kind and concerned was always okay, wasn’t it?

Dongmin stared at his brief text history with Minhyuk. Wait. It had been a  _ month? _ No. Reaching out now would be weird and creepy.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket. What he should do right now, when it was the middle of the night and the laundromat was empty and he’d finished all his chores, was start memorizing his lines. Because he didn’t have someone to run lines with, he’d have to memorize Bin’s lines as well, but that was okay. He even had an umbrella he could use.

Dongmin dug the homemade script out of his book bag and smoothed it out. He and Bin had done an initial reading together and made some blocking notes, and also notes about emphasis and pauses. Dongmin was glad he’d insisted that he take on Mirae’s role, because her character was very different from his natural personality, and stepping into her shoes - as well as putting his own spin on her situation - was going to be a fun challenge. He’d have to make a point of avoiding Bin’s gaze. Even though Mirae could stand up for herself, she was still struggling with her own sense of self-worth, and when things were the hardest, when she was telling Kyungseok he had no chance from the start, she wouldn’t be able to look at him.

All his life, Dongmin had never met anyone he was afraid to make eye-contact with. Sometimes he avoided it out of politeness or to avoid an awkward situation, but he’d never felt like he  _ couldn’t _ look at someone. Then again, he’d also never felt like he couldn’t confront someone if necessary. At this point in the drama, Mirae had convinced herself that her life would be too hard if she openly dated Kyungseok because he was naturally handsome, came from impressive parents (even if they were divorced), and he was smart and talented (even though she was also smart and talented). Dongmin suspected, though, that because Mirae was still trapped by her unhealed wounds, that Kyungseok faced an additional barrier when it came to dating her: he reminded her of her past. Even if the two of them had resolved their specific misunderstandings, he was from one of the lowest points in her youth, when she’d been ready to take her own life. She might not have even been aware of that association, but it lingered.

Dongmin stared down at the script.

_ Kyungseok: Did I have no chance from the very beginning? _

_ Mirae: Yes. _

Dongmin couldn’t reach out to Jinwoo through his cousin, could he?

Because he had no chance from the very beginning either. He was a living, breathing reminder of one of the worst moments of Jinwoo’s life. It was a good thing, then, that Jinwoo hadn’t come back for his clothes or tried to return Dongmin’s.

Although...would Dongmin have had a chance? When he’d answered Jinwoo’s phone, Sanha had thought he might be Jinwoo’s new boyfriend, and the way he’d made the comment suggested that Jinwoo had had previous boyfriends, and his friends and family were aware of it, and even if they weren’t enthusiastically supportive of who he dated, at least they weren’t hateful about it.

Dongmin picked up his umbrella, opened it, and set it to the side for when he’d need it.

He rehearsed until a slightly drunk salaryman in a rumpled suit came into the laundromat dragging a laundry bag behind him, and then he did his best to be attentive and helpful till the end of his shift.

On the way home, he noticed a man out running with his dog, and he wondered, for the hundredth time, if Jinwoo and Rudy had been like that, and if so, did Jinwoo have the heart to go running in the morning without him? Would Minhyuk or Myungjun or Sanha go running with him instead?

Dongmin shook his head and picked up the pace. He needed to focus on his studies and his job. 

* * *

Focusing on his studies was the right thing. Dongmin and Bin rehearsed whenever they had a spare moment, usually in one of the small theaters so they could use a stage. When they couldn’t rehearse in person, they’d rehearse their dialogue over the phone just to make sure they had it all down. Bin managed to acquire a sound recording of a rainy night on a city street with traffic that they could use as a background, and he figured out how to trigger it, and also how to make the noise die down when the dialogue started, how to make it louder when they parted ways (he’d hold the remote in his hand, because everyone would be paying attention to the hand holding the umbrella anyway).

“Just so you know,” Bin said, as he and Dongmin walked across campus to the theater classroom on the day they were supposed to perform, “my boyfriend is starting to get jealous of how much time I spend with you.”

“While you are very handsome, talented, and kind, I respect other people’s relationships,” Dongmin said.

Bin pressed a hand to his chest. “You flatter me.”

Dongmin swatted at him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Bin laughed and dodged. “You sound just like my Junie. You should come meet him sometime. I think you’d get along.”

“All right,” Dongmin said. Making more friends was a good idea. The more real friends he had, the less he’d be hung up on the boy he’d never really had, the boy he thought about during every spare moment.

“Great! Tomorrow, a bunch of us are having a street performance.” Bin grinned at him.

“What time? I work tomorrow night, but not till later.”

“It starts at four, long before it gets dark. I’ll text you the location. We can get dinner after so you can really meet him.”

Dongmin nodded. “All right! I’ll be there.” Then he eyed Bin. “Have you been rehearsing for two performances this whole time?”

“More than two,” Bin said. “I’m singing and dancing. But we started practicing for our performance long before Professor Kang gave us this assignment, so I was fine.”

“I’m not a very good dancer, but I admire people who are good at dancing,” Dongmin said.

“We have some of the  _ best _ dancers in our crew. Just you wait. Also you’ll get to hear my Junie sing. His voice is beautiful.” Bin’s expression turned dreamy for a moment, and Dongmin was jealous of him.

He didn’t know how anyone could doubt Bin’s love for his Junie.

Bin and Dongmin reached the small theater, and they found seats in the audience. Usually class was held on the stage, everyone sitting in a circle, sometimes on chairs, sometimes on the stage itself. Even though Bin and Dongmin had practiced on the stage plenty of times, sitting in the audience with the rest of their classmates drove home the fact that this was going to be a  _ real _ performance. Dongmin and Bin had both been in their high school drama clubs, but this felt different, and Dongmin couldn’t put his finger on why.

Maybe it was because it was his first performance as an adult. In high school, drama club was a hobby, a pastime with little consequence. 

It was real now.

Professor Kang had no set list, as it were. Performances were on a volunteer basis.

Bin and Dongmin had agreed to go third. Going first was too nerve-wracking. Going last would be the same. Second was still a bit too early. By the third performance, though, everyone would be into the swing of things - the technical theater students helping with the sound and lighting, their classmates as an audience.

Bin had been right. The first duo performed a Shakespearean play. The second duo performed a scene from an Oh Taesuk play.

Professor Kang’s expression was unreadable as she took notes on each performance, asked questions about the selection and the actors’ interpretation and analysis. The students were allowed to ask questions as well, but everyone seemed afraid to. Perhaps, instead of being afraid, like Dongmin they were too busy worrying about their own performances to think too hard about everyone else’s.

“Who’s next?” Professor Kang asked after the second duo was back in their seats.

Dongmin raised his hand. “We’re ready.”

Professor Kang nodded. Bin went to talk to the tech theater student handling the sound, and Dongmin set the two umbrellas on the side of the stage, one open, one closed. Then he waited for Bin in the middle of the stage.

“What have you prepared for us today?” Professor Kang had her pen poised to take notes.

Dongmin cleared his throat, looked at Bin.

Bin smiled and said, “An adaptation of a scene from the drama  _ My ID Is Gangnam Beauty, _ from episode twelve.”

Professor Kang raised her eyebrows. “A drama?”

Dongmin nodded.

The others shifted in their seats, murmured.

Professor Kang waved her pen. “Go ahead.”

Both of them bowed, and then they took their places.

Dongmin started a third of the way across the stage, walking slowly, shoulders hunched as if against the cold and wet, while the sound of rain and traffic was a background murmur. He had to trust Bin’s timing, counting silently in his head till it was time for him to stop and think, press a hand to his heart to signify heartache, and then look up in confusion, because the rain had suddenly stopped as Bin held an umbrella over him.

Dongmin half-turned to look over his shoulder.

Bin said, “Why didn’t you answer my call?”

The sound of traffic and the rain faded.

They’d practiced this so many times that Dongmin didn’t have to think about the lines. All he had to think about was how much it hurt, seeing Sooah in Kyungseok’s arms, how good it felt that Kyungseok had followed him, but also how terrifying, because Kyungseok was everything he could never have, and he was a specter of a hideous past.

Kyungseok’s quiet intensity, his frustration at Dongmin’s crippling self-consciousness mounting, made Dongmin’s heart ache, but he didn’t dare give in, because he knew how horrible other people could make his life if he dared step outside of the ugly box he’d been born into.

Kyungseok’s calm surface cracked. “Yah! I asked how you feel about me. I don't care what other people say.”

Dongmin caught Kyungseok’s gaze and held it, willing him to understand. “What other people say is important to me. You only see me as someone who’s obsessed with my face, don’t you? Well, you don’t know how hard it’s been for me. If we go around together, my life will become too difficult.”

Finally, defeat crept into Kyungseok’s eyes. “Did I have no chance from the very beginning?”

Dongmin couldn’t watch Kyungseok’s heart break, and he looked down. “Yes.”

Kyungseok looked away, nodded once, though whether it was in acknowledgment or farewell, it was hard to tell, because his expression was totally numb.

He stepped out of the shelter of the umbrella and drifted away, the other umbrella still closed in his hand.

The sound of traffic and the rain rose again.

Bin reached the edge of the stage, and the lights went down.

Dongmin set down his umbrella and scrambled to find the center mark in the blue-out. Bin was beside him right as the lights went up, and they bowed.

A moment later, their classmates applauded.

Dongmin and Bin straightened up. Dongmin cleared his throat and sneaked a glance at Professor Kang, whose expression was still unreadable.

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen the drama,” she said finally. “But I’m pretty sure I heard that the character who was a Gangnam Beauty was a girl. Why that scene?”

“It’s one of the most important scenes in the drama,” Bin said. “The drama discusses a lot of social issues, and we wanted our performance to reflect that. Males are under increasing pressure to be youthful and handsome as well, and also there are many different types of couples who, despite their love for each other, cannot easily date because society thinks it’s wrong for them to be together.”

The other students shifted again, murmured to each other.

Professor Kang’s eyes gleamed. “Fair enough. How did you decide who took which role?”

“Since Bin is a bit shorter than me, we thought it would make for interesting dynamics, if he played Kyungseok and I played Mirae,” Dongmin said promptly.

Professor Kang made some more notes. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the other students. “Do you have any questions for your classmates?”

One boy raised his hand hesitantly.

“Yes?” Bin asked.

The boy pointed at Dongmin. “Are you a Gangnam beauty? No one is naturally that good-looking. My father is a plastic surgeon.”

Dongmin met the boy’s gaze squarely. “Does it matter if I am?”

“Well, no, but I’m curious.” The boy shrank in his seat a bit.

Professor Kang said, “You can keep on being curious. Please keep your questions restricted to the content and mechanisms of the performance. Any other questions? No? Next!”

Bin and Dongmin thanked the tech, grabbed their umbrellas, and headed back to their seats.

After class, Dongmin and Bin helped stack up the chairs.

Bin caught Dongmin by the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“What? Of course. Why?”

“It’s just - that boy’s question.” Bin kept his voice low.

Dongmin shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bin said, “If you were a Gangnam Beauty, I wouldn’t care.”

Dongmin smiled. “I know. That’s why we’re friends.” He reached up, patted Bin’s hand on his shoulder. “We did really well today, and I know it’s because you picked such a good scene. I’ll see you tomorrow at your performance, all right? Don’t forget to text me the location.”

Bin nodded and smiled back tentatively. “All right. Thanks for working so hard.” He shouldered his book bag. “I’ll be going first.”

Dongmin nodded and resumed stacking chairs.

Would the others spread rumors in the theater department, that maybe he was a Gangnam Beauty? 

Professor Kang said, “I’m surprised no one asked the more obvious question about the scene.”

Dongmin spun around, bowed. “Professor.”

“It doesn’t matter whether either you or Moon Bin are gay or otherwise not-straight, but that was the more obvious question.”

“Perhaps some of them thought about it, but it wasn’t really relevant to our performance,” Dongmin said.

Professor Kang nodded. She said, “Have a good day.”

Dongmin bowed and left the small theater. 

As he headed to his next class, he wondered. Would Jinwoo care if Dongmin was a Gangnam beauty?

* * *

When Bin had said it was a street performance, what he’d really meant was it was at an underpass in a slightly shady part of town. It didn’t have an actual address, and Bin had simply dropped a pin on his current location and sent it over.

As it turned out, that pin wasn’t entirely accurate, because when Dongmin arrived at the underpass at precisely four o’clock, no one was there.

And then he heard cheering, and he spun, searching for the sound. There. The other end of the underpass, on the other side of the shadows. What he’d thought was a dark dead-end was actually a crowd of people.

Dongmin hurried to the crowd. He was lucky he was tall, because even though he was at the back he could see Bin and two other boys sitting in a semi-circle on some cheap folding chairs. The one boy with the curly hair had an acoustic guitar and a mic stand. Bin and the other boy had hand-held mics. Behind them, other boys and girls were clustered around a portable speaker. All of them were dressed in black, with matching white sneakers. 

Bin was wearing a tank top that showed off how muscular his arms were. Since he was sitting in the center facing the audience head on, Dongmin figured he was the equivalent of an idol group’s center or a visual. The boy with the guitar started to play a gentle riff. Bin sang first. His voice was light. Then the boy with the guitar sang. Even though he wasn’t facing the audience head on, Dongmin thought he looked young-ish, maybe still in high school, but his voice had a surprisingly full timbre to it. He and Bin harmonized smoothly, though. Then the boy on the right started to sing, and his voice was sweet but also powerful when he hit the high notes on the ad-libs. Which one of them was Bin’s boyfriend?

Dongmin craned his neck and tried to edge his way forward in the crowd without being rude or stepping on anyone.

He was halfway to the front when the performance ended, and cheers and applause rose up.

Bin and the other two stood up, took their bows. The other two looked familiar, but maybe Dongmin was confused, or maybe he’d seen pictures of them on Bin’s phone? Although Bin had never really shown Dongmin pictures on his phone. Maybe they were in a picture that Bin used as the wallpaper on his phone?

“Thank you for coming to our performance today,” Bin said. “I’m Moon Bin.”

“And I’m Yoon Sanha,” the boy with the guitar said, beaming and waving. His smile gleamed. He had braces.

“And I’m Kim Myungjun!”

“And we are part of the Interstellar Crew!” Bin said.

Dongmin stared. Sanha and Myungjun. As in...Park Minhyuk’s neighbor and Jinwoo’s friend? Bin’s sweet Junie was Jinwoo’s friend Myungjun?

“Thank you for coming out to support us today,” Myungjun said. He had a wide, beaming smile, bright as sunshine.

No wonder Bin was so in love with him. Bin hadn’t been kidding about how beautiful his voice was either.

Dongmin tried to push forward to get a closer look, but then Bin made a sweeping gesture and said, “Make some room!” and the crowd surged backward, sending Dongmin stumbling.

When he regained his balance, Bin and another boy in a tank top and skinny jeans were standing on the edges of the open space.

Music started to play, and Dongmin tried to push forward again, but it was no use. He leaned up on his toes to try to see who the other boy was. The way he and Bin moved together was impressive. Both of them were lean and strong, moved in perfect synchronicity. They had effortless control over their own bodies, moving sharp and smooth in turns. They also looked like they were having  _ fun, _ playing with each other as they moved to the music.

When the song ended, they grinned at each other and hugged each other, looking overjoyed, as the audience exploded into even more cheers.

Then they took their bows, and Dongmin could see clearly: the other boy was Park Minhyuk.

No way. 

But Dongmin was determined. After the performance he’d catch up to Minhyuk and ask about his cousin. Maybe Jinwoo was here in the crowd, supporting Minhyuk? Dongmin scanned the audience, but everyone was facing forward.

Minhyuk introduced himself, and he and Bin stepped off of the impromptu stage.

The rest of the dance crew - just a dance crew? Performance crew - was crowded behind the stage area, some of them helping work the sound, cheering each other on and shouting encouragement.

One boy in a black hoodie, with big red headphones around his neck, stepped forward, grabbed a microphone.

Myungjun turned on some music with a catchy beat, and the boy started toward Minhyuk.

He started to rap.

His voice was deep, a little rough. Sexy.

And then he turned and Dongmin saw he had bleached ice-blond hair, the tips dyed blue.

Dongmin’s heart started to pound. Was it possible? Was that Jinwoo?

The boy turned, tossed Minhyuk a microphone, and for one moment Dongmin glimpsed a hint of a tattoo at his collar, and then Minhyuk was on his feet, also rapping.

It was a rap battle.

Dongmin could only stare, wide-eyed. All this time, he’d been worried about Jinwoo, and it hadn’t occurred to him that Jinwoo was out living his best life, being a badass rapper, and being sexy as hell during a street performance.

When the rap battle was over, Jinwoo and Minhyuk hugged each other, and Minhyuk introduced his cousin Park Jinwoo, and Jinwoo bowed again. When he straightened up, he was beaming, and Dongmin’s heart ached a little. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

For the rest of the show, Dongmin couldn’t keep his eyes off of Jinwoo, even when he wasn’t performing, though Dongmin tried to pay attention when Bin danced to Uptown Funk with Minhyuk and Sanha. 

Others boys and girls performed, singing and dancing and there was even a song where a girl rapped and Myungjun sang, which was a really interesting dynamic, but through it all, Dongmin watched Jinwoo.

Jinwoo was confident. Jinwoo was full of swag. Jinwoo knew he looked hot. Jinwoo was also an incredible dancer, smooth and controlled, fast and strong, but also graceful and expressive.

Jinwoo probably didn’t even remember Dongmin. He probably hadn’t even thought of Dongmin once since the night they met.

Dongmin was an idiot.

At the end of the show, there were cheers and applause, shouting and hollering and whistling as the boys and girls of the Interstellar Crew took their bows. Dongmin had come and been supportive of Bin. If Bin texted or called and asked, Dongmin could offer an honest opinion about the performances. But he should head home and get ready for work even though his shift didn’t start for another three hours.

Dongmin turned to go, and his phone started to ring.

Loudly.

Oh, no. He’d forgotten to put it on silent. That it hadn’t gone off in the middle of the performance was sheer dumb luck. Dongmin fumbled his phone out of his pocket and saw that it was Bin calling. Dongmin took a deep breath. He could answer the call calmly, congratulate Bin on his excellent performance and his adorable, talented boyfriend, say that something had come up - Dongmin’s realization of his own stupid obsession - and slip away, catch up with Bin after their next class.

Only a hand came down on his arm and spun him around.

Bin grinned at him. “There you are! Come meet my Junie.”

Dongmin tried to stammer out an excuse, but Bin was really strong, and he towed Dongmin over to where Myungjun - and Sanha, Minhyuk, and Jinwoo - were standing.

“Myungjun, this is my partner from drama class, Lee Dongmin,” Bin said. He let go of Dongmin’s arm and reached out, snaked his arm around Myungjun’s waist and reeled him in close. “Dongmin, this is my Junie.” He nuzzled Myungjun’s ear, making him squeal and squirm.

“Not in public.” Then Myungjun looked up at Dongmin, and his eyes went wide. He smacked Bin on the arm.  _ “Yah! _ You’ve been spending a bunch of time alone with a boy who looks like  _ that? _ How could you?”

Bin affected a wounded pout.

Dongmin said, quickly, “No, you have nothing to worry about. Bin loves you so much. He talks about you all the time. For a while I thought your name really was Mai Joon Yi _.”  _ He swallowed hard, darted a look at the other three, but they were gathering up the speakers and microphones and other technical supplies.

Dongmin added, “Your performance was really impressive. Bin told me you have a beautiful voice, but that was an understatement.” He smiled tentatively. How quickly could he make his getaway?

“Thank you.” Myungjun preened. Then he peered at Dongmin. “You look familiar. Have we met before? Are you a model? You’re handsome enough to be a model. Sanha, what do you think?”

Dongmin winced.

Sanha looked up from where he was checking on his guitar. “What?”

“Bin’s partner from drama class. He could be a model, right?”

Sanha fixed his gaze on Dongmin, and his brow furrowed. “Are you a model? You do look familiar. Minhyuk, you’re better at faces than I am.”

“I’m not a model,” Dongmin said. “I’m just a student, same as Bin.”

Minhyuk turned to them, and he went still. “You,” he said.

Bin frowned. “You two know each other?”

Dongmin bowed. “Ah, Park Minhyuk-ssi. Hello again.”

Myungjun said, “You know a boy this handsome and you never said anything?”

It was Bin’s turn to smack Myungjun on the arm.  _ “Yah! _ I’m right here.”

Dongmin bowed again. “Well, Bin, it was lovely meeting your friends, but I should probably go get ready for work.”

“I thought we were going to get dinner together,” Bin protested.

Jinwoo reached out to Minhyuk. “Are you ready? I need a hand.” He was coiling up a bunch of amplifier cords and electrical extension cords. 

Myungjun said, “Jinie, help us convince Dongmin-ssi to come to dinner.” He tugged on the sleeve of Jinwoo’s hoodie.

And then Jinwoo looked at Dongmin. “Oh, hello. You must be Bin’s classmate.” His smile was brief, polite, and utterly devoid of recognition. 

Dongmin’s heart sank. “Ah, yes. We are in a drama class together. We just finished a project.”

Jinwoo’s expression changed. “You’re real.” 

Dongmin blinked. “Ah, yes? I am real.” 

“How are you real?”

Dongmin cleared his throat. “We’ve met before, but it wasn’t under very ideal circumstances. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Park Jinwoo. I’m Lee Dongmin.”

Jinwoo looked shocked and a little spooked. “I thought I was dreaming.” 

Dongmin took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you’d remember me. I wondered how you were doing. Seems like you’re doing very well. Your performance was impressive. You’re very talented.”

“What do you mean, dreaming?” Myungjun frowned.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. He looked at Dongmin. “It’s  _ you.” _

Bin said, “Sanha, you know Dongmin too?”

“I told you,” Jinwoo said. “The night - the night it happened. An angel took care of me.”

Dongmin felt his face heat. “You were very upset that night. I just did what any decent person would have done.”

“What’s going on?” Bin asked, looking between Jinwoo and Dongmin suspiciously. 

Myungjun patted his arm. “We’ll explain over dinner. Right, Dongmin-ssi?”

Dongmin had no reason to refuse now, so he nodded.

* * *

All through the meal, Jinwoo kept looking at Dongmin, his gaze piercing. Dongmin, sitting beside Bin, didn’t know what to do, so he just smiled tentatively whenever they made eye-contact. 

However well Dongmin had thought Jinwoo was doing, he wasn’t doing perfectly well, because Myungjun and the others were trying to explain to Bin how they recognized Dongmin while talking around the night of Rudy’s untimely death. As soon as Bin caught on, his expression turned sympathetic.

Dongmin said, “I still have your clothes. I saved your jeans, but the shirt and socks - there was nothing I could do about those.”

Jinwoo looked confused. “My clothes?”

Dongmin glanced at Minhyuk and Sanha. Minhyuk shook his head.

Jinwoo leaned in, caught Dongmin’s gaze and held it. “Tell me what happened.”

“Hyung,” Minhyuk protested.

“I need to know,” Jinwoo said. “Please. Tell me.”

So Dongmin did, in brief, concise details. 

“Wow,” Bin said once he’d finish. “So if I’d gone with Junie that night, we’d have met.”

Dongmin nodded.

Jinwoo studied Dongmin. “I remember you were dressed all in white. Like an angel.”

“I was probably wearing a white t-shirt,” Dongmin said apologetically.

Bin added, “He wears a lot of white t-shirts.”

Jinwoo studied Dongmin some more. “You told me things. Things only my mother ever said to me.”

“Ah - that. I saw your tattoo.” Dongmin blushed again, remembering Jinwoo’s other tattoo, and his muscular chest.

Jinwoo’s gaze turned distant.

“I’m sorry I’m not really an angel,” Dongmin said.

“I can see why he thought you were an angel. You’re very handsome,” Myungjun said. He scowled. “No wonder Binnie never showed me any pictures of you.”

“Because I don’t have any pictures of him,” Bin said. “I only have pictures of you.  _ You _ are my boyfriend.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Myungjun squeezed his hand.

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. Dongmin learned that Jinwoo and Minhyuk were cousins through their mothers, who were sisters. Sanha and Minhyuk went to the same high school, which was also the school Jinwoo and Bin had gone too. Myungjun was one of Jinwoo’s friends from a music hagwon they’d both attended, Jinwoo as a drummer and dancer, Myungjun as a dancer and singer. Myungjun and Bin had met when they both auditioned for the Interstellar Crew, and they’d been dating ever since.

Dongmin did his best to smile and be social. Myungjun was bright and animated, could mimic animal voices and celebrity voices too, and he made Dongmin laugh. Sanha was savage, hiding his well-placed barbs behind his baby-faced smile. Minhyuk was mostly quiet, though occasionally he would ask a random series of questions. He was pleased that Dongmin did his best to answer them.

“Wow,” Sanha said, after Dongmin explained about the Japanese Civil War and the end of the samurai era during an anime discussion, “you’re so smart. Why are you going to be an actor when you could be a doctor or something?”

“I’m too squeamish to be a doctor,” Dongmin said.

“He’s going to be a lawyer,” Bin said, sounding proud. “Drama is just his minor.”

Sanha batted his eyelashes at Dongmin. “Will you help me with my studies?”

“Yah! University students are very busy,” Myungjun said. He was an architecture major.

“Ah...in which subject?” Dongmin asked.

“All of them,” Sanha said fervently.

Dongmin hesitated. “Well…”

The others, except Jinwoo, laughed. He’d been silent through most of the meal.

Bin patted Dongmin’s shoulder. “Don’t let them sucker you. They had Jinwoo suckered into doing most of their English homework last year.”

“We would never,” Sanha said.

But Minhyuk said, “We would. In a heartbeat.”

Sanha pouted and poked him in the ribs.

Dongmin’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked his watch. “I’d better get ready to go to work, so I’ll pay for my share and go.” He lifted his hand to signal to the ahjumma who was running the restaurant, but Bin caught his wrist.

“No, I’ve got this. You came out and supported us, and you took a chance on working with me for our assignment, so I want to say thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Dongmin asked. 

Bin nodded and smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Thank you,” Dongmin said. “I’ll see you next class.” He rose and bowed. “It was lovely to meet you all properly.” He turned and headed for the door.

Jinwoo said, “I’ll bring your clothes back. I - what even happened to them, Minhyuk?”

“My mother cleaned them. I have them,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin turned to him. “No, don’t worry about it. Maybe give them to Bin and he can bring them to class.” He smiled.

Jinwoo said, “I’ll bring them to you.”

“Okay. If that’s what you prefer. Do you need the address of where I work?” Dongmin fished his phone out of his pocket. “I can text it to you.”

Jinwoo told Dongmin his number, and Dongmin sent him the information. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” Jinwoo said.

Dongmin nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.” He bowed to the others one more time, and then he hurried out to catch the bus.

* * *

When Dongmin arrived at the laundromat, there was a flood in the corner. He and Heeseok had to mop up the mess while Manager Jung did his best to placate the customers. 

An hour later, Manager Jung and Heeseok departed, both of them tired and soaked from the ankles down. Dongmin, who always kept a change of clothes in the back, went to put on clean pants, shoes, and socks. When he emerged, the laundromat was still empty, so he put his wet things into one of the dryers to run on a low, short cycle to get the worst of the dampness out, and then he set about sprucing the place up so it wouldn’t look like they’d suffered yet another plumbing disaster.

Once the floor was totally dry and all the machines were clean, chrome shining, little circular windows fingerprint-free, Dongmin could hit the books. He spread his study supplies on the customer service desk and opened his torts notebook and textbook.

His phone buzzed.

Text message from Lee Taehwan, who’d been Dongmin’s sunbae in his high school drama club and was also his sunbae in the drama department now.

_ What’s this about you being a Gangnam beauty? Some hoobaes have been asking about it, wanting to see pictures of you from high school. _

Dongmin stared at the message in disbelief.  _ My classmates are being silly. Ignore it. _

_ But you’re not a Gangnam beauty, _ Taehwan typed back.  _ I’ve known you for years. _

_ As I said, ignore it. Or don’t. It’s up to you. _ Dongmin shook his head and started reading the next chapter.

_ If the rumors get around, things could be difficult for you. _

Dongmin stared at the message. Taehwan was very confident, because he was handsome and a good actor. He didn’t care what other people thought. Usually. He sighed and scooped up his phone, typed rapidly.

_ Seems like the rumors are already getting around. If they care so much, they can look up my high school and childhood pictures and see the truth. Don’t enable them, though. Thank you for your concern. _

Dongmin set his phone down.

It buzzed again.

Another message from Taehwan.

Dongmin turned his phone face down and shoved it aside. Enough was enough.

“Is everything all right?”

Dongmin looked up. Jinwoo stood in the doorway, holding a little paper shopping bag.

“Jinwoo-ssi. You came.”

“I said I would.” Jinwoo crossed the laundromat, placed the bag on the desk beside Dongmin’s books. “I’m sorry it took me so long to return these.”

“It’s fine. If I were you, I wouldn’t have wanted to think about that day either. Let me go find your clothes.” Dongmin ducked into the back, returned with the wrapped bundle of Jinwoo’s clothes. He held it out.

Jinwoo accepted it with a slight bow, smoothed his hand over the fine satin wrapping. “It’s not that I didn’t want to think about it. I just...had no real memory of it. I think Minhyuk and the others avoided talking about it so as not to upset me, but - I wanted to remember.” He looked up, caught Dongmin’s gaze, held it. “I wanted to remember you. The angel.”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Jinwoo cocked his head. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m not an angel.”

Jinwoo leaned on the counter. “I think it’s better, actually, knowing that someone as decent as you exists in the world, that I received kindness from a real person instead of a possibly imaginary supernatural creature.”

“If it had been Heeseok on shift, I’m sure he would have -”

“But it wasn’t him. It was you.” Jinwoo leaned in closer. “So. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dongmin said. “Your performance today was very impressive. I’m glad Bin invited me.”

“Thank you. We all worked very hard.”

Dongmin pulled the paper bag closer. “Thank you for returning this.”

Jinwoo said, “I thought about you every day. Sometimes, in the morning, the only thing that got me out of bed was the memory of you. Did you think of me?”

“I did,” Dongmin said, and swallowed down  _ all the time. _ “I considered reaching out to Minhyuk-ssi, to ask about you, but it seemed a bit - strange. We’re strangers.”

“We’re not strangers anymore,” Jinwoo pointed out.

Dongmin nodded. “We’re friends of friends, I suppose.”

“I hope we can become close.” Jinwoo smiled, and he really was so unfairly handsome.

_ I don’t think my heart can handle that, _ Dongmin thought, remembering the tattoos on Jinwoo’s chest, and his sexy smirk while he was dancing, and -

“Why not?”

Dongmin blinked. “Why not what?”

Jinwoo looked amused. “Why don’t you think your heart can handle us becoming closer?”

Oh no. Dongmin had said that aloud? He felt his face heat. “I - well -”

“Lee Dongmin. Be honest with me. You’ve seen me at my most vulnerable, so you owe me that much. How much did you think of me, after that night?” Jinwoo’s gaze was heated.

Dongmin swallowed hard. “I thought about you every day, too.” Multiple times a day, but there was only so much honesty Dongmin could manage.

“Why didn’t you contact me? You had Minhyuk’s number.”

Dongmin felt his face heat even more. “It just seemed - awkward. I didn’t think you wanted to be reminded of what happened. And also - also I wasn’t sure if I wanted to contact you to find out if you were okay, or because you look so good without a shirt.”

Jinwoo preened. “I do work out.”

“And it pays off. I mean - that’s not the point. You were upset and vulnerable and I was checking you out. What kind of person does that?” Dongmin shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I -”

He stepped back.

Jinwoo reached out, caught his wrist. “You’re not a bad person.”

“But -”

“Had you been in an emergency and I’d been there to help, I’d still have noticed how good-looking you are.”

Dongmin looked away.

Jinwoo said, “You’re really not a bad person.”

Dongmin didn’t say anything.

Jinwoo said, softly, “You’re my angel.” Then he let go of Dongmin’s wrist and walked away.

Dongmin didn’t move till he heard the door open, then close. His pulse roared in his ears. What had just happened?

* * *

Dongmin couldn’t sleep that night, and he was distracted all the next day during lectures. His handwriting was an indecipherable scrawl, so all his notes were useless, and he’d have to borrow some from one of the other students.

He headed for the cafeteria in the law building, mentally cursing himself. What was wrong with him? So what if Jinwoo had called him an angel? Jinwoo wouldn’t have said that if he knew half of what went on in Dongmin’s head. Like the memory of Jinwoo’s bare chest, and his tattoos, and the way he danced, and his deep voice while he rapped, and -

“Whoa, there.”

Dongmin came up short when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

He lifted his head.

Ryu Eunho, a third-year law student, stood in front of him.

“You all right?” he asked. He’d been in Dongmin’s group for the big orientation party and was Dongmin’s mentor. “You nearly knocked me off my feet.”

“Sorry, sunbae. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I am - distracted.” Dongmin bowed apologetically.

Eunho smiled. “I understand. Being a law student isn’t easy. Have you had lunch yet? I’ll buy.”

“Oh, sunbae, you don’t have to -”

“I insist,” Eunho said, drifting over to the food line. “What would you like?”

Dongmin ordered the pork cutlets. Refusing Eunho was pointless. On top of being devastatingly beautiful, he was one of the top students in the department, was headed for a prestigious career as a prosecutor or a judge. Eunho ordered food for himself as well, paid for both of them, and led Dongmin over to a table in the corner.

“Has it hit you yet?” Eunho asked.

Dongmin blinked at him.

“That you’re going to become a lawyer. That through your work you will be responsible - at least in part - for people’s livelihoods, their homes, their freedom, even their lives?” Eunho smiled enigmatically.

Dongmin blinked again. “Ah - no.”

“Well, you’re only in your first year,” Eunho said. He leaned in and said, conspiratorially, “Wait till you take a field trip to the prison. Then you’ll understand what’s at stake.”

“It’s not school that’s distracting me,” Dongmin said. “Sorry, sunbae.”

“Oh? Well, I can try to help you. But lawyers don’t make great human beings.” Eunho repeated something their professors said often.

Dongmin studied Eunho for a long moment. The older boy was handsome and aware of it, wasn’t ashamed of it, but he also knew he had a razor-sharp intellect to back it up. All the girls in the department and a good chunk of the girls - and boys - on this side of campus were in love with him, at least a little bit. 

Finally, Dongmin said, “On a scale of one to ten, how morally bankrupt are you for noticing that someone is really hot the first time you meet them, if they’re in the middle of an emotional crisis the first time you meet?”

Eunho raised his eyebrows.

Dongmin ducked his head and blushed.

Eunho twirled up a forkful of pasta. “I suppose it depends. Did you realize you noticed she was hot but mostly focused on the crisis, or did you ignore the crisis and focus on her hotness? I’d say the former is a five, the latter is a ten.”

Dongmin swallowed hard.

“Five being  _ I’m a horrible person but I know it and I’m trying to do better, _ ten being  _ I’m a horrible, horrible person and should be locked away to prevent my perversion from spreading like a plague on the innocent.” _ Eunho ate a bite of pasta and studied Dongmin, waiting for his response.

“I’d say...mostly the former,” Dongmin said. “Sort of like,  _ oh wow, this is a disaster, let me help you; also hey, you took your shirt off, you’re really hot; oh hey, let me keep helping you.” _

Eunho’s eyebrows shot up. “She took her shirt off?”

Dongmin’s eyes went wide. “It - his shirt was covered in blood. His dog had just died. It was hit by a car and he carried it to the vet but it died on the way. There are no ambulances for dogs.”

“I see.”

Dongmin realized what he’d just confessed to the older boy. “I - I’m only asking theoretically. For a friend.”

“A friend,” Eunho echoed. “Well, I’d still say it was a five. Four, or maybe even a three, depending on how much your...friend...focused on the boy’s hotness, versus helping the boy deal with the fact of his beloved pet dying.” His tone was calm, even, but he looked amused.

Dongmin took a deep breath. “What’s the morality on constantly wondering, after that encounter, if the other boy is okay but also remembering how hot he was? Although - although that could also be a bit muddled with the fact that a subsequent encounter with the boy was while he was dancing and rapping in a street performance and he was seriously, seriously hot there.”

“A six,” Eunho said promptly. “As in,  _ I’m a horrible person and I want to do better but I’m not sure it’s worth it.” _

Dongmin sighed. “I’m a horrible person.”

Eunho leaned in and lowered his voice. “Well...how hot is he? On a scale of one to ten.”

Dongmin said, morose, “An eleven.”

“Then, considering the mitigating circumstances, I could be persuaded to lower your immorality rating to a four.” Eunho smiled gently. “Don’t torment yourself too much. You’re only human. And it sounds like you did the right thing - you helped him.”

“Did I really? Or was I just being selfish?”

“I suppose if he feels like you helped him, then you really helped him. You had moral luck,” Eunho said.

“But my intentions -”

“Sounds like you don’t even really know what they were, first of all,” Eunho said. “Second of all, results matter. If you plan, down to the last detail, how to murder a man, and at the last second a sparrow flies between your target and your bullet, you won’t get charged with first-degree murder, no matter how much malice aforethought went into your crime. A man who had zero forethought, in comparison, but managed to complete his crime, would have far more serious charges than you.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Dongmin said slowly. He eyed Eunho. “But also I see why our professors keep saying that lawyers don’t make very good humans. That wasn’t exactly comforting.”

Eunho laughed. “You’ll be in my shoes one day. Wait and see. So, do you have pictures of him? I’m curious.”

Dongmin was horrified. “No! I didn’t take pictures of him while he was covered in blood and crying.”

Eunho raised his eyebrows. “The fact that that’s where your mind went makes me think I need to raise your immorality rating back up to a five. I meant did you find some on SNS or something.”

“Oh! Oh.” Dongmin fished his phone out of his pocket. “I only recently learned his name, and then I resisted the urge to go look, because I felt bad, but I can probably find him.” 

Dongmin was friends with Bin on Instagram. Bin had two accounts, one personal one, one as a performer with the Interstellar Crew, and sure enough, he was friends with both pk.jinwoo.96 and interstellar.jinjin.

Dongmin tapped on Jinwoo’s Interstellar account, since the other one was private, and looked for a picture that showed his face clearly. Instead he happened upon one that was of Jinwoo leaning against that brightly-graffitied wall in the underpass, wearing a hoodie that obscured his face half in shadow, but for the bright shock of his blue-tipped blond hair. The hoodie was unzipped halfway down his tank top, showing off a bit of his tattoo. Dongmin stared and swallowed hard.

Eunho turned the phone around. “Let’s see who’s got you all distracted.” He whistled. “Wow. I can see why you’re all distracted. He looks like such a bad boy, though. I didn’t think that was your type.”

“Before him my type was Park Bo Gum and Nam Joohyuk.” Dongmin sighed.

Eunho nodded. “Solid choices. Elevens, both of them.”

“Thanks. For listening. And not judging. And for lunch. And - everything.” Dongmin sighed again.

Eunho patted his hand. “I realize we’re both law students, but don’t overthink this, all right? Just - let it happen. And let this bad boy, Jinjin, take the lead. If you’re worried about your intentions toward him, see what his are toward you first.”

Dongmin nodded. “All right. Thank you, sunbae.”

“Now, be honest with me, how is it going in civil procedure?”

“That class is so boring that I keep stabbing myself with my pen to stay awake.”

“Drink lots of coffee before that class. You’ll stay awake, and you’ll have an excuse to get up and duck out because you’ll have to pee a lot.”

“Sunbae!”

“Or you can borrow my case briefs and outlines.”

“Thank you.”

“But seriously. Lots of coffee.”

* * *

After that lunch with Eunho, Dongmin still wasn’t sure what to do. So he should let Jinwoo take the lead. Take the lead with what? Obviously Dongmin was overthinking things. Jinwoo didn’t  _ like _ him, at least not that way Dongmin liked Jinwoo (and what did he know about Jinwoo anyway, besides that his mother and dog were dead and he was a super hot rapper and dancer?). Obviously Jinwoo was just very grateful for how Dongmin had helped him, and that was that.

So when Dongmin received a text message, out of the blue, of a cute little boy sitting on a pier on the edge of a lake, wearing a floppy fisherman hat and holding a fishing pole, a furry big-pawed puppy beside him, he didn’t know what to do.

The picture came from a number Dongmin didn’t recognize.

A message arrived a moment later.

_ This is Rudy a few weeks after my mother first brought him home. _

Jinwoo. He had Dongmin’s number. Dongmin hadn’t saved Jinwoo’s because he knew he shouldn’t. What did it mean, that Jinwoo had saved his? What should Dongmin say in reply?

Another picture arrived, this time of Jinwoo in a school uniform, Rudy by his side at a bus stop. Jinwoo looked about like he was in middle school, and Rudy was - massive. Jinwoo was grinning at the camera and flashing a peace sign, and Rudy’s tongue was lolling out. His fur looked incredibly soft.

_ Rudy grew really big really quickly. He always walked me to the bus stop in the morning, and he’d meet me there after school too. _

The next picture was of Jinwoo in high school, posing and looking sexy in basketball shorts and a tank top, though the effect was ruined by Rudy trying to shove his nose into Jinwoo’s ribs at the same time.

_ Rudy and I would go running together every morning. _

Dongmin, sitting at a study carrel in the law library, hurried to turn off the vibrate on his phone in case there were more messages.

_ Rudy helped me take care of myself. _

The next picture must have been somewhat recent, given that Dongmin could see hints of Jinwoo’s tattoo at his collar where it gaped, because he was doing pushups while Rudy clung to his back. Dongmin couldn’t help but wonder if that picture was from before or after Jinwoo’s mother had passed.

_ Rudy also helped me with my photography projects. _

The next picture was not of Jinwoo but of Bin, who was shirtless and sitting on some kind of pedestal, a chain wrapped around his wrist that trailed down and was also wrapped around Rudy, who looked fierce and wild, lying beside the pedestal. The backdrop looked like a full moon, and there was smoke drifting around Bin, making him look shadowy and mysterious. It was a beautiful image. 

The final message was,  _ I just thought, even if you weren’t interested in getting to know me better, you might want to know about Rudy. _

Dongmin’s heart pounded. He took a deep breath, then typed back,  _ Are you a photography major? The picture is very pretty. Rudy was a beautiful dog. His fur looks soft. _

He hit send, and then he stared at his phone, hoping to see those three dots that meant Jinwoo was about to reply.

There were none.

Dongmin’s watch buzzed. Time to get to his next class.

He shoved his textbooks into his bag, and then he had to hurry across campus to the theater department. When he got there, he darted up the steps and through the doors, down the hall to the small theater where his class met.

“There you are,” Bin said. He’d been waiting by the door.

Dongmin smiled at him. “I’m here. Am I late?” He checked his watch. “I came as fast as I could. The law department is on the far side of campus.”

“No, you’re not late,” Bin said.

Dongmin tilted his head. “You said  _ there you are, _ like you’d been looking for me. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Bin began. “It’s just -”

“Just what?” Dongmin stepped around Bin and headed into the small theater.

“Wait,” Bin said, grabbing Dongmin’s shoulder, but it was too late.

Someone had found a bunch of Dongmin’s old pictures, from when he was a baby all the way up through his driver’s license photo, and had enlargements printed, stuck them to the wall at the back of the stage, and marked them up with red lines, the places where he’d probably had plastic surgery done. Someone had also spray-painted the words  _ Gangnam Beauty _ on the wall in bright yellow paint.

Professor Kang and several members of the university’s custodial staff were standing on the side of the stage.

“Then check the CCTV footage from the hallways!” Professor Kang snapped. “This is unacceptable. We need to catch who did this, but we also need this mess cleaned up before the victim arrives.”

Dongmin cleared his throat. “I’m already here.”

Professor Kang pinched the bridge of her nose. “Moon Bin -”

“I texted him, but he didn’t respond,” Bin said in a small voice.

Dongmin dug his phone out of his pocket. “I shut off the vibrate on my phone while I was in the library.” He’d missed dozens of text messages from Bin, mostly in the vein of  _ I need to talk to you before class _ and  _ Wait for me before class. _

“I warned you,” Taehwan said, appearing in the doorway.

“Sunbae.” Bin inclined his head politely.

Taehwan’s shoulders were tight. “I showed them the pictures of you, but -”

“People believe what they want to believe,” Dongmin said. “On the other hand, I did use my time at the law library productively. If these rumors significantly impact my future employment or earning capacity and I find out who started them, I’ll make sure they’re held liable.”

Bin winced. “Sometimes I forget you’re not just an actor like the rest of us.”

Professor Kang hopped off the stage and crossed the floor. “I’m so sorry, Dongmin-ssi. This is unacceptable.”

“I’m not going to say it’s fine, because it’s not fine, but it’s not your fault, Professor.” Dongmin inclined his head respectfully.

“I’m canceling class for the day, but don’t go anywhere. Campus security will be here to question all the students. Taehwan-ssi, you said students asked you for pictures of Dongmin? Campus security will want to talk to you too,” Professor Kang said.

Taehwan nodded.

“Have a seat,” Professor Kang said. 

Bin nodded, and he caught Dongmin by the elbow, steered him into the room. They found seats near the door. Dongmin opened his book bag and fished his property law textbook out.

“What are you doing?” Bin asked.

“Making good use of my time.”

Bin leaned in. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Dongmin nodded and flipped to the next chapter he had to study.

“Okay.” Bin sounded skeptical, but he reached for some of his own textbooks.

“By the way,” Dongmin said, and he unlocked his phone, thumbed to his text message thread with Jinwoo, “you have a very nice back.” He held his phone out.

Bin looked up sharply. “What? Where did you get that?”

“From Jinwoo.”

Bin raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Dongmin chose his words carefully. “He sent me some pictures of Rudy.”

Bin’s expression softened. “Oh. Well, he did like using Rudy for his photography projects.” He peered at the picture. “Honestly I think Junie has that as the wallpaper on his phone. Everyone thinks he’s into werewolves.”

Dongmin bit back laughter. “Well, at least he’s into attractive werewolves.”

Bin shoved his shoulder. “I can’t believe Jinwoo sent that to you. Of all the possible pictures of Rudy he could have sent.”

“Why are you so embarrassed? Clearly your time at the gym has paid off,” Dongmin said.

“Jinwoo uses all of us as models,” Bin said. “Now that you’re getting to know us, maybe you can share some of the burden.”

“I don’t know,” Dongmin drawled. “Would he want to use a Gangnam Beauty?”

Bin shoved him again. “Yah!” he hissed. “Don’t cause more trouble. Although.” He sighed. “I kind of feel like this is my fault. If we hadn’t picked that drama -”

“Sounds like, even before we picked that scene, my classmates were spreading rumors about me,” Dongmin said.

He and Bin had been talking quietly amongst themselves, carefully ignoring the other students who came into the room. Professor Kang ordered them to take their seats. Gasps and whispers spread around the room when people saw the graffiti up on the wall, and Dongmin could feel people looking at him, but he ignored them.

Once everyone was assembled, Professor Kang announced that class was canceled but campus security was on the way to investigate the graffiti, and everyone had to stay and be questioned, and also the chair of the department was on her way. The tension in the room ratcheted up, and the whispers grew louder.

“Professor? We’re here from campus security.”

Dongmin lifted his head sharply. He recognized that voice.

Jinwoo stood in the doorway with another boy. Both wore black uniforms and caps with  _ Campus Security _ and the university logo on them. Jinwoo’s cap covered his bleached blond hair completely.

Professor Kang beckoned them into the small theater. 

“What seems to be the problem, ma’am?” Jinwoo asked. He sounded calm and professional.

Dongmin shrank down in his seat. “What is Jinwoo doing here?”

“He works for campus security,” Bin said. 

“I thought he was a photography major?”

“He is. This is just a part-time job,” Bin said. 

Professor Kang beckoned Jinwoo and the other boy over to the stage. The other boy, Dongmin noticed, had a tablet computer with him, which he flipped open and started tapping at, nodding at what Professor Kang was saying.

Murmurs rose when a woman in an impeccable suit strode into the room. 

“Who’s that?” Dongmin asked.

“Ah, right, I keep forgetting this isn’t your major. That’s Professor Nam, the department chair,” Bin said. “She’s been on Broadway and in the West End in London.”

“Wow.” 

Professor Nam was beautiful. She also looked terrifying. She reached out, put a hand over the security officer’s tablet.

“Wait.”

He paused, startled.

Professor Nam turned to address the class. “Before we see who defaced this theater and slandered one of their classmates, I’m giving the offenders a chance to confess, or a witness to turn them in. If you’re just a witness, all you’ll face is a disciplinary note in your file for not turning your classmate in sooner. If we find out you’re a witness later, you will fail this class. If you’re an offender, you will fail this class and be suspended for a semester. If we find out you’re an offender later, not only will you be expelled from this department, you will be charged with destruction of property.”

Everyone froze, even Dongmin.

One boy, the one who’d originally asked if Dongmin was a Gangnam beauty, whispered to the girl beside him. “How do we really know that the offenders were caught on the CCTV?”

“How do we know they weren’t?” the girl whispered back.

Professor Nam shook back her sleeve, revealing a stylish and expensive watch. “You have sixty seconds starting...now.”

Another boy whispered, “I didn’t even realize there was CCTV in this room.”

“She’s bluffing,” a girl said. “Obviously the offenders wore masks.”

Professor Nam glared, and heavy silence fell over the room once more.

The students squirmed in their seats. Dongmin kept calm and still, head bowed, but he couldn’t concentrate on his textbook.

Bin reached out, patted his knee.

Dongmin smiled back briefly.

Professor Nam said, “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five -”

A girl jumped out of her seat. “It was Woori. And Heejoon.” She pointed to two other students, a girl and a boy.

They hissed at her, tried to drag her back down into her seat.

Professor Nam said to the security officer, “Roll the footage, just to make sure she isn’t just selling out her friends to make things easier on herself.”

He nodded and tapped the datapad. Professor Kang and Professor Nam watched it together.

Professor Kang’s expression turned grim, but Professor Nam’s expression was still terribly blank.

Then she looked up at the girl and said, “You’ll receive notice of the disciplinary action taken against you. Hyun Woori, Kim Heejoon, Lee Taehwan, Lee Dongmin, stay here. Everyone else, go. Don’t talk about this to anyone. Don’t post about it on SNS.”

“Call me later,” Bin said, squeezing Dongmin’s shoulder briefly.

Dongmin nodded. “I will. Have a good day.”

The other students shuffled out of the room, keeping their movements small, shoulders up around their ears under Professor Nam’s sharp gaze.

Taehwan sank down in the seat Bin had just vacated. “Are you all right?”

Woori and Heejoon sat huddled a few rows in front of them, heads bowed.

“I’ll be fine,” Dongmin said. “I guess this means mine and Bin’s performance had an impact, at least.”

“That’s one way to look at it. I’m sorry I gave them your pictures.”

“You had no way of knowing what they’d do,” Dongmin said. “It’s interesting, though. The boy who asked if I was a Gangnam beauty, who asserted some level of authority for his opinion because his father is a plastic surgeon, he wasn’t involved in this.”

Taehwan glanced at him sidelong. “Are you really going to sue them?”

Professor Kang beckoned Dongmin and Taehwan to the front of the room just below the stage.

Dongmin shrugged and rose, gathered up his books. “Depends on how this affects me in the future, I suppose.”

“That’s kind of out of their control, isn’t it?” Taehwan asked.

Dongmin smiled, not quite nicely, and said, “It’s moral luck.”

“Dongmin-ssi,” Professor Kang said. “You also have the opportunity to press charges if you so choose.”

Jinwoo glanced at him, expression grim. Of course he’d recognized the pictures. Everyone always said Dongmin had looked the same all growing up.

Dongmin inclined his head politely. “I’m not currently inclined to do so.”

Woori ducked her head, avoided his gaze. Heejoon glared at Dongmin briefly, but when Dongmin met his gaze and didn’t back down, Heejoon looked away.

Professor Nam turned to Dongmin. “I’m very sorry this happened to you, Dongmin-ssi. We will handle this appropriately.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Dongmin bowed slightly.

Professor Kang said, “Give your contact information to campus security, and then you can be on your way.”

Dongmin smiled briefly at Jinwoo. “Jinwoo-ssi already has it.”

“You know each other?” Taehwan asked.

“We have a mutual friend.” Dongmin shrugged.

The other security officer glanced at Jinwoo, who nodded.

Professor Kang patted Dongmin’s shoulder gently. “You can go.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you, sunbae.” Dongmin nodded at Taehwan and hitched his bookbag higher on his shoulder. 

Jinwoo cleared his throat.

Dongmin turned to him, raised his eyebrows.

Jinwoo said, “Don’t worry. We’ll handle this.”

Dongmin looked Jinwoo up and down, then said, “I trust you.” And he left the small theater.

* * *

“So, this morning was kind of crazy for you.”

Dongmin looked up from his lunch.

Jinwoo, no longer in his uniform, stood beside his table. He had a lunch tray in hand.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s the drama department. Of course the students created drama.” Dongmin gestured to the seat opposite him. “Join me, if you can.”

Jinwoo sank down in the chair. “You don’t seem all that affected by the drama.”

“Well, I know who I really am, and also I trust Professor Kang and Professor Nam to handle things. That’s not my place. If I need to seek legal recourse down the road, I’ll be more than capable.” Dongmin sipped some water. “I didn’t know you worked for campus security.”

“I have several part-time jobs,” Jinwoo said. “Security during the day. Teaching drums at a music hagwon after school. A convenience store night shift on the weekends.”

“That’s a lot, for someone who’s also a student,” Dongmin said carefully. “Especially someone who is also a rapper and dancer in the Interstellar Crew.”

Jinwoo shrugged. “I’m taking care of myself, and I still owe on my mother’s hospital bills.” He paused, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have, and then cleared his throat. “So, you liked the pictures of Rudy?”

Dongmin nodded. “Yes. He was beautiful.”

“He was my best friend. I mean, Myungjun-hyung and Minhyukie will both probably tell you they’re my best friend, but it was Rudy. Was.” Jinwoo sighed. “I’m sorry. I -”

“Don’t apologize,” Dongmin said. 

Jinwoo peered up at Dongmin through his lashes. He had beautiful dark eyes. In all the times Dongmin had remembered Jinwoo, imagined him, he hadn’t done the boy justice.

Dongmin said, “Bin was a bit embarrassed that you’d sent me that picture of him with Rudy. He thinks I should share the burden of being one of your models.”

Jinwoo looked startled. “Really? You’d be willing to?”

“If you’ll take a Gangnam beauty,” Dongmin drawled.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. “You’re just going to make more rumors fly.”

Dongmin framed his face with his hands and batted his eyelashes like he saw idol boys do all the time. “Let them talk.”

Jinwoo’s cheeks turned red. He pressed his hands to his face. “Don’t - don’t do that.”

Dongmin resumed eating his lunch. “Sorry.”

They both ate in silence for a few moments.

Then Jinwoo said, “It was your voice.”

“Pardon?”

“I honestly didn’t really remember your face, from that night,” Jinwoo said. “I remembered your voice, while you talked to me, while you washed the blood off of me. And your hands. You were very gentle. At the vet’s office they took Rudy from me and they shoved me aside. I know they needed me out of the way, but -” Jinwoo swallowed hard.

“You were crying a lot,” Dongmin said. His heart thumped oddly in his chest. “I was surprised you made it into the laundromat. You started taking off your clothes, which isn’t allowed, of course, so I went to stop you. You’d managed to get your jacket and shirt and shoes off. You threw your shirt into a dryer, though.”

Jinwoo said, “These past few months have been hard. It was hard, after my mother passed. And it’s been harder. But the memory of your voice did make things easier.”

“Well, now I’m a phone call away, if you ever want to hear me again.”

“What if I want to hear you in person?” Jinwoo caught Dongmin’s gaze and held it. “I know you’re not really an angel. You know I’m kind of a wreck. But I am interested in you as a person. Bin talked about you a lot, while you were working on that scene interpretation project.”

“We’re both very busy people,” Dongmin said.

Jinwoo bit his lip.

“But I’m willing to try.”

Jinwoo’s face lit up. 

Dongmin’s heart raced.

“Thank you,” Jinwoo said softly.

Dongmin leaned in and lowered his voice. “So, you should show me some videos of Rudy.”

Jinwoo fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. “I have lots of videos of Rudy.”

* * *

Dongmin looked down at his outfit, straightened his t-shirt compulsively. Ever since Manager Jung had ordered little uniform vests for Dongmin and Heeseok and the other part-timers to wear, Dongmin didn’t have to worry too much about being over-dressed, so long as his pants were neat and comfortable and his shirt didn’t clash with the vest.

“Hyung,” Sanha said, waving his pencil in the air. “Can you explain how to solve the quadratic equation again?”

Dongmin finished cleaning one of the dryers, then crossed the laundromat to where Sanha and Minhyuk were sitting on a bench, doing their homework and ostensibly supervising Jinwoo’s laundry while he was at work at the convenience store down the street.

“Isn’t it a bit late for high school students to be out?” Dongmin asked, but he took Sanha’s pencil and made a few notes in his notebook so he could see what steps to take.

“We have to get our homework done, same as anyone else,” Minhyuk said. He had his prize pen, one of those click pens that had multiple colors in it, and was working on his Korean Language Arts assignment. “Also Jinwoo-hyung said he needed help with his laundry.”

“You know,” Myungjun said, “Jinwoo might be less burdened if he had a roommate.”

He and Bin were also doing their laundry. They were roommates. Myungjun’s family knew he and Bin were dating, but Bin’s family did not.

“We’ve only been dating for three months,” Dongmin said.

“Obviously don’t move in right away,” Myungjun said airily.

“But when your lease is up at the end of the semester, you should consider it,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin stared at him. “You too?”

Minhyuk shrugged and didn’t even look up from his textbook.

Dongmin eyed Myungjun. “Does Jinwoo know you’re doing this?” Jinwoo would never ask for that kind of help, which wasn’t always a good thing.

On the other side of the laundromat, Bin had some headphones on and was practicing his newest solo choreography, in between folding sheets and blankets and pillowcases.

Myungjun tossed his head. “Of course not.”

“Does  _ Bin _ know you’re doing this?” Dongmin asked.

Myungjun’s expression turned shifty.

“Well, isn’t this a party.”

Dongmin turned, and there was Jinwoo, fresh off his shift at the convenience store. He was wearing a tank top under a button-down shirt, and Dongmin could see the edges of his lion tattoo. Jinwoo knew how much Dongmin liked his tattoos. He smirked and tucked his hands into the pockets of his unzipped hoodie.

“You here to do your own laundry?” Minhyuk asked. He pointed to the machines. “They have fifteen minutes left before they have to go in the dryer.”

“Thanks, Minhyukie.” Jinwoo reached out and ruffled Minhyuk’s hair.

For anyone else, Minhyuk would have scowled, but he just nodded and went to scoop up his books. “Come on, Sanha, we’d better get home.”

Sanha considered protesting for a moment, but then he looked at Jinwoo and gathered up his own work. “Thanks for the help with my math, hyung.” He smiled briefly at Dongmin, waved at Jinwoo, and then he and Minhyuk ducked out of the laundromat.

“Welcome, customer,” Dongmin said to Jinwoo, who glanced around the laundromat to ascertain that it was empty of everyone but friends, then darted in and pressed a kiss to Dongmin’s cheek.

Myungjun let out a delighted squeal, then clapped his hands over his mouth when Jinwoo whipped around to cast him a  _ look. _

Bin said, “Oh, hey hyung, you’re here. Junie, come help me finish folding the laundry, and we can go home.”

“Sure thing,” Myungjun said. He sidled across the laundromat and started to fold shirts with impressive speed. He could do that two-pinch cross-and-twist folding thing that Dongmin still hadn’t quite figured out.

In a matter of minutes, he and Bin were gone, a basket of clean and folded laundry between them.

“Now,” Jinwoo said, “what should we do, just the two of us?” He started to tug the hem of his shirt upward.

Dongmin caught his wrist. “Sir, that’s not allowed,” he said, a little breathless.

Jinwoo twisted his wrist and reversed the grip, tugged Dongmin into his arms. His body was warm and firm. 

“Wait, what are you doing?”

Jinwoo slid his hand into Dongmin’s back pocket, and Dongmin yelped. 

“Jinwoo, I’m on the clock!”

“Give me just four minutes,” Jinwoo said. “Come on. Please?” His deep, husky voice sent shivers down Dongmin’s spine. Then he grabbed Dongmin’s phone.

Dongmin tried to twist around to see what he was doing. “Are you setting an actual timer?”

But then music started to play, and Jinwoo put Dongmin’s phone back, and he tucked his head under Dongmin’s chin and started to sway.

“Dance with me,” he murmured, reaching up and putting his arms around Dongmin’s neck.

Dongmin nodded and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo’s waist. “All right. Just four minutes. After that, we’ll finish your laundry.”

“And then you’ll let me take pictures of you for my next project?”

“Yes, though why you want an over-dressed laundromat part-timer, I can’t imagine.”

Jinwoo hummed happily against Dongmin’s throat. “I always want you.”

“Well,” Dongmin said, “if you like, after this semester, you can have me. We can be roommates.”

After a long moment, Jinwoo said again, “I always want you.”

Dongmin held him tighter, and they kept on dancing.

**Author's Note:**

> At least 1k words of the ship of your choice to whoever first correctly identifies the stealth crossover (without Google or Naver or what have you).
> 
> Title from Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls
> 
>   
>  [](https://imgfly.me/i/XnY9yA)  
>    
> 


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